


Pivot

by Skyblu



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Major Illness, One-sided Jarrich, POV Jared, POV Richard, Porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyblu/pseuds/Skyblu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard is sick. Erlich makes porn. Gilfoyle and Dinesh start acknowledging their feelings for one another?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Look, this just…it-it isn’t going away. I thought I was managing my…my stress levels…y’know I’m doing like yoga and stuff now and the business is actually doing kinda okay all things considered, but it’s getting worse. I’m getting worse.” Richard pressed his lips together and made eye contact with the doctor for a moment before redirecting his gaze toward his lap. There was a little green stain on his left pant leg. He frowned. When was the last time he’d eaten something green?

“Your night sweats and panic attacks? Sounds like you haven’t brought those stress levels down as much as you think.” The doctor pointed his pen at Richard. “How would you like to get in on the ground floor of my new startup? I have an app that sends you annoying notifications until you let it guide you through ten minutes of mindful meditation. Meditation is very good for relieving stress. You can set it to make you meditate up to ten times a-”

“No, no thanks,” Richard cut the doctor off. He could never get through an appointment without the doctor pitching some new idea. At least he’d moved on from that ridiculous Panic-A-Tech. Who’d want to walk around with one of those probes on their finger? Or worse, inside their ass.

The doctor pursed his lips for a second, then smiled. “Well, I could refer you to a psychiatrist. I know this one guy…he’s great. He could get you a script for Xanax or something like that.”

Richard nodded and gave the doctor a small half-smile. “Uh, o-okay. Yeah,” Medication wasn’t his first choice, but if it finally got his panic attacks under control, he’d give it a shot. Still…“But, uh, what about my cough? It’s not going away either. It’s been…” Richard paused to think for a moment, and to let out a tiny cough. “It’s been months. I think it started in June.” Yeah, June. It had seemed like it was just a summer cold, but summer colds usually go away by September.

The doctor furrowed his brow. “That could be just about anything. Allergies, respiratory infection. It could be environmental. Uh…,” the doctor glanced at his computer. “According to your chart, you’ve lost weight since your last visit?” He reached forward to press gently on either side of Richard’s neck.

“Uh…yeah? I’m so nauseous all the time. I can barely keep anything down. But, you know. Panic attacks.” Richard grimaced as the doctor’s cold hands palpitated his lymph nodes.

The doctor frowned. “Your lymph nodes are a little swollen. That, combined with persistent cough, night sweats, nausea…I’d like to draw some blood, run some tests.”

Blood? That’s kind of serious. You don’t just draw blood for any silly ailment, right? And then there was the matter of actually drawing the blood. Needles…“Well I mean I…I’d really rather you-”

“Mr. Hendricks, your problems are probably all psychosomatic, but I’d like to make sure you don’t have any vitamin deficiencies, especially since you’re likely malnourished. It would also be a good idea to check your cholesterol levels. You startup guys have the worst diets.” The doctor rolled up Richard’s sleeve. He tied a red rubber ribbon around Richard’s left arm, then turned and opened a cabinet. He pulled a syringe out of a box.

“Well…uh…okay I guess…” Richard stared at the wall to his right. He hummed tunelessly and tried to focus on an “Only You Can Prevent the Flu!” poster. It was decorated with friendly-looking germs with big eyes and Mickey Mouse-gloved hands. The germs extolled the virtues of hand-washing and flu shots. It seemed a little demented, having germs advocate for something that would destroy them.

“Aaaaand…you’re done,” The doctor untied the tourniquet and pressed a bandage onto Richard’s arm. “Thanks for the DNA sample. I’ll let you know your results as soon as we get them. In the meantime, start taking a multivitamin and keep doing that yoga. Oh, and let me find the contact information for my shrink…” The doctor turned back to his computer.

Richard rolled down his sleeve. Aside from the tight rubber band tied around his arm, he’d hardly felt a thing. Maybe that doctor isn’t as bad as he seems.

* * *

“Your code is so sloppy-” Gilfoyle began. He sat facing his corner, typing away at something.

“My code is sloppy?” Dinesh stopped his work to glare at the back of Gilfoyle’s head. “My code is tight. It’s tighter than your mother’s pussy.”

Gilfoyle and Dinesh were bickering again. Jared had to hide his smile as he listened. He loved the way they fought. There was so much love behind every insult they threw at each other. He liked to imagine there was love behind all the insults they directed toward him, too. And there were _a lot_.

“If you were trying to offend me, you failed. My mother deserves every insult she gets.”

“I wasn’t trying to insult her. She’s a lovely woman!”

Jared looked up from his work as Erlich swept through the room to the front door, all kimono and bravado. As he passed the work table, he hissed, “Some very important people are here. Don’t embarrass me.”

He threw the door open and shouted, “Gentlemen! And lady. Welcome to the Hacker Hostel and headquarters of Pied Piper.”

Two men and a woman stepped into the workroom. The woman was dressed like any one of the female execs at Hooli, very polished, tailored suit, not a hair out of place. Her face just looked…sharp. Predatory. The men, on the other hand, reminded Jared of one of his less pleasant foster fathers. Greasy hair, crooked mustaches, ill-fitting suits. They looked like used car salesmen.

“Pied Piper!” one of the men said quietly to his companions. The woman gave him a small nod.

“I was there when the inspiration hit for Pied Piper’s revolutionary middle-out compression algorithm,” Erlich led the group through the workroom. “I believe the tale is germane to our mutual interests. It would make an excellent film. Ah, shall we have a poolside meeting?” Jared heard the door to the back yard slide open.

“Who were they?” Dinesh asked. “Hollywood guys? You don’t think Erlich’s trying to sell our story…”

Gilfoyle, who had twisted in his seat to watch the group, shook his head. “They’re too sleazy for Hollywood. They look like their business model is based on despair and humiliation. And…” he paused to sniff the air, “daddy issues.” He sniffed again. “Wait…mommy…no. Daddy _and_ mommy issues.”

“So they do porn?” Dinesh clarified.

“That’s my guess.”

Jared stared at the doorway leading to the kitchen, mouth slightly agape. What were porn people doing at the incubator? What would they want with Erlich? Was he getting into acting? The men in what little pornography he’d watched had all resembled Erlich in one way or another, so he supposed it made some sense. And Erlich was the sort of guy who _would_ pursue that line of work.

“So Jared,” Gilfoyle pulled Jared out of his thoughts, “While we’re on the subject, I, unfortunately, know all about the kind of porn Dinesh watches…sick motherfucker. What about you?”

“That’s a fucking _weird_ question to ask someone, Gilfoyle. Are we really going to talk about what gets us hard? With, like…all of us in the room?” Dinesh grimaced. 

“Dinesh, you watch interracial cuckold porn. That suggests to me that you enjoy the thought of being in a room with another man who has an erection…who may very well be pleasuring your woman in ways you never imagined.”

“That is wrong on all levels!” Dinesh protested. “You’re the one with the weird _compersion_ fetish!” He paused, hands up, mouth open. “Whatever, let’s psychoanalyze Jared’s porn consumption.”

Dinesh and Gilfoyle now both stared at Jared. With a shrug, he said, “I don’t watch pornography. I find it-”

Gilfoyle cut him off, saying, “I’m not _even_ going to touch that one.” Dinesh shook his head in agreement.

With that, all three men returned to their work.

* * *

Richard shifted on the exam table. The paper beneath him crinkled.

“Mr. Hendricks…” The doctor glanced at his computer screen. He smiled at Richard the way one might smile right before telling someone their dog had been hit by a car, all kindness and pity. “Ah, yes. I have one piece of bad news and two pieces of good news. What order would you like them?”

Richard brushed his thumb over the green stain on his jeans. The fabric was a little stiff there. Maybe the stain would come out in the wash? He reminded himself again to do laundry. Without averting his gaze from the mysterious stain, he said, “Uh…can I have one good news item first, then the bad, and then the other good news? That seems reasonable. Hear some good, hear some bad, then hear some more good news at the end to make me feel better.” He looked up at the doctor for a second, let out something resembling a laugh, swallowed hard, and tried to ignore the panic he felt coming on. He didn’t like the doctor’s smile. He didn’t like that the doctor didn’t give him his results over the phone, instead just saying “We need to discuss your results in person. Please come in as soon as humanly possible.” He didn’t like the way his heart was beating, way too fast and hard and possibly not with its usual lub-dub lub-dub rhythm, though at that second he was having a hard time concentrating on anything at all, never mind his heartbeat. He didn’t like this stupid stain on his pants. Where the hell did it come from?

“Okay. Well. First piece of good news is: your CD4 count is great. With a good antiretroviral regimen, we can get your viral load under control and possibly undetectable, and with proper diet and exercise, you could easily reach something resembling a normal lifespan. Plus, with all the money invested in research, we’re coming up with better and better treatments all the time. Hell, we may have a cure within your lifetime. Mr. Hendricks, there’s no reason you can’t live a perfectly normal life.”

Richard looked up at the doctor again, then shut his eyes and shook his head side-to-side. “I…I’m sorry. What?” He opened his eyes again. “Viral load…antiretroviral…” he paused to swallow hard once more. Saliva was flooding his mouth. His tongue felt heavy. “Antiretroviral _what_?”

“Oh! Ooooooh. That was supposed to be the other good news. The thing to lift your spirits after the bad news. I got the order mixed up. My mistake!” The doctor chuckled. “The first good news is your vitamin and cholesterol levels all look fine.”

Richard took a large, shuddering breath. His stomach turned and cramped. CD4 count. Viral load. Antiretroviral regimen. Normal lifespan? Cure? “And the-“

“The bad news is you have HIV.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing I've written in a long time. Any and all criticism is welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard hides in his room all day. Jared figures out why. Dinesh and Gilfoyle discuss sexuality.

Jared glanced over his shoulder and down the hall again. Richard had come home nearly ten hours ago, and he hadn’t left his room since. He’d just floated through the house to his room like a ghost. Jared was, understandably, worried. Richard never stayed away from his work for this long.

He got up from the table. He had to do _something_. So, he went to the kitchen. Erlich stood over the sink, shoveling a bowl of some kale-flaxseed mixture into his mouth. Jared dug a can of almost-expired tomato soup out of a cabinet. He set about heating it over the stove, diluted with half a can of water and half a can of milk, just like one of his more caring foster mothers had done for him. He also sliced off a few pieces of cheddar cheese from a block with Chinese characters scrawled on the packaging. He figured it was Jian-Yang’s and hoped he wouldn’t notice or care. Two slices of Richard’s white bread. Crusts cut off, then thrown into a frying pan like another foster mother had done.

A few minutes later, carrying a tray with a bowl of tomato sauce and a grilled cheese sandwich, he knocked softly on Richard’s door. An indistinct groaning sound came from the other side of the door. “Richard, it’s Jared. May I enter your room?”

Another mumble.

“Richard, I’m coming in.” Jared carefully balanced the tray on one hand and tried the doorknob. The door squeaked open.

Richard lay in his loft bed, curled into the fetal position, squeezing a pillow to his chest. He’d pulled a hood up over his head. “Hey,” he said quietly as Jared approached the bed. He looked like he was trying to smile at Jared, but instead his chin quivered. His eyes were puffy and blood-shot. He’d been crying.

Jared held up the tray to bed-level, trying to entice his miserable-looking friend with the meal he'd oh so carefully prepared. “I thought you might need some food. I made you a grilled cheese and some tomato soup. Oh, and I cut the crusts off the grilled cheese.” He gave Richard a proud smile. When Richard made no attempt to sit up and take the food, Jared's smile was replaced by a frown, and he asked, “Is everything okay?”

Richard curled himself tighter around the pillow. “Yeah. I’m fine. Fine. Just not feeling good." He took a deep breath. "Can you please, like…leave me alone?”

Jared’s shoulders slumped. His closest friend was suffering and wouldn’t tell him anything or let him help. That stung far worse than Erlich’s comment about sex appeal a few days prior. “Oh…okay. I’ll just put the tray on your desk. Try to eat something, alright?”

He ducked under the bed. As he slid the tray onto the desk, one corner clipped an orange pill bottle, knocking it to the floor. “Sorry, sorry!” he said, picking it up to return it to the small collection of prescription bottles on one corner of the desk. He didn’t mean to invade Richard’s privacy and look, but…he caught a glimpse. Ativan, filled three days prior, Truvada, and something ending in -tress, both filled that day.

When Jared backed out from beneath the bed, he straightened his back quickly and smiled gently at his friend. “You know where I am if you need anything. Feel better.” He placed a hand on Richard’s arm. He hoped it was a comforting gesture, but Richard seemed minimally comforted by it, pulling his arm in closer to his body and breaking eye contact with Jared to look at his pillow.

With that, Jared nodded and fled the room. He returned to the work room, where Dinesh and Gilfoyle were embroiled in a serious conversation.

“So…what’s going on with Tara? Haven’t seen her in a while,” Dinesh asked, tweaking his eyebrows in Gilfoyle’s direction.

“Yeah, Gilfoyle, how is the blue-balling succubus?” Erlich shouted from the kitchen.

“By the very nature of the myth, succubi are incapable of leaving men with blue balls. Anyway, she’s not allowed to reenter the country for a few years, due to some nonsense with the legal system. I’m planning to visit when things calm down here. In the meantime, we have an arrangement.”

Jared sat down at the head of the table beside Dinesh. Both men ignored him. He was briefly curious about what kind of arrangement Gilfoyle and Tara might have, but of course, Dinesh immediately asked the obvious question.

“What kind of arrangement would that be? She gets all the dick she wants and you get to jerk off? You’ve never brought another woman home.”

Jared opened his laptop. He opened a web browser. Hm. He already knew all about Ativan, and he figured it was about time Richard got drugs for his anxiety. So, he typed _truvada_ into the address bar, then clicked the Wikipedia link in his search results.

“She’s allowed to sleep with all the women she wants, and I’m allowed to sleep with anyone I want.”

“Wait, wait…she can’t fuck other guys, despite your weird compersion fetish, but you can fuck other women? That sounds like a great arrangement.”

Jared read the first paragraph of the article “Tenofovir/emtricitabine.” Truvada is a trademarked drug made by Gilead Sciences…fixed-dose…and there it was. “Two antiretroviral drugs used for the treatment of HIV/AIDS.” Jared’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. HIV. No wonder Richard was so distraught. If the prescription was filled today...he must have just been diagnosed. Okay, it's okay, Jared. Richard is sick, but he can survive this. He needs help. He needs Jared to stay calm and provide him with whatever support he needs.

“I can fuck _anyone_ I want,” Gilfoyle repeated.

“Guys too? Is _that_ a thing you do?” Dinesh looked mildly disgusted while staring at his computer screen.

“Anyone. Gender is a construct, anyway. I think of myself and my lovers as human beings. I don’t apply labels like ‘man’ or ‘woman,’ ‘gay’ or ‘straight.’”

This made Dinesh turn his head toward Gilfoyle. “You’re a man, though. Like, you aren’t just a person. You’re a male human. You’re a man.”

“Your understanding of gender and sexuality is beyond antiquated. Yes, I prefer a masculine aesthetic, but I don’t define my entire self by any of these things. I’m human. I am attracted to the other humans I happen to be attracted to, and I think it’s a waste of brainpower to put more thought into it than that,” Gilfoyle said. He stood to take another sticky note from Jared’s scrum board.

Jared kept reading the article. Approved for pre-exposure prophylaxis…HIV-1 infection…protease inhibitor-based regimens…should use Truvada only in combination with other antiretroviral medications. He didn’t pretend to know half the words he was reading, but that last bit seemed important. Maybe that other drug Richard had was another HIV medication?

“Oh, Jared,” Gilfoyle finally noticed him. “What’s going on with Richard? Is he going to grace us with his presence anytime soon?”

“Hm?” Jared looked up from his laptop, wide-eyed. Gilfoyle had startled him out of his drug research. Right now, Richard needed Jared to make everyone else leave him alone. “Uh, probably not. He’s not feeling well.”

“He should suck it up!” Dinesh rolled his eyes. “None of us get to take a day off when we’re too hungover to get out of bed. Even Gilfoyle, and he’s an immigrant!” He mouthed the word “lazy” to Jared while jerking his thumb at Gilfoyle.

Gilfoyle returned to his seat, apparently satisfied with Jared’s response. Jared returned to reading, this time moving on to the general “HIV/AIDS” article. If he wanted to help his friend cope with his diagnosis, he needed to be much better-informed than he was at present. When he got to the section about transmission, he wondered for just a second about how Richard had become infected. He pushed the thought out of his mind. None of his business.

“So, Gilfoyle,” Dinesh started up again. "If my understanding of gender is so poor, I just have one question. You _do_ have a dick, right? Tara isn’t just allowed to sleep with other women because she only likes pussy?”

Gilfoyle’s hands tapped his desktop. He spun around in his chair to face Dinesh. “You know how I know you’re gay? You are obsessing over my dick. No straight man obsesses over another man’s dick.”

Dinesh scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. You know how I know you’re gay? You just admitted you have a dick, and you’d have sex with a man! You are the very definition of gay.” The corners of Dinesh's mouth twitched, like he was trying desperately to avoid smiling.

Jared looked up from his computer again. He needed a break from what he was reading. It all seemed so dire. AIDS-defining conditions, seroconversion, opportunistic infections. He understood, kind of, why Richard would be so upset. The article made it seem like such a life-ending condition. So, he focused his attention on Dinesh. Of course it was Dinesh spouting ignorant nonsense. “From what Gilfoyle says, I don’t think he’d be gay. He sounds more pansexual than anything.” He looked to Gilfoyle. “You sound pansexual.”

It was Gilfoyle’s turn to scoff. “Your labels are meaningless.” He turned back to his computer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erlich has an announcement. Jared "confronts" Richard. Richard emerges from his pit of despair, poor guy.

Erlich stomped through the front door. Jared flinched as the door hit the wall. Doors flying open like that still frightened him sometimes. Nothing good ever came through doors that opened like that. This was no exception. Erlich was not happy.

“Where the hell is Richard? Is he still throwing himself a pity party?” he shout-asked the room. “Time is money. Money waits for no man, and you poor leaderless fucks are out here with your thumbs up your asses waiting for him. Have I taught him nothing?” He turned to head down the hall, likely to Richard’s room.

“Actually,” Jared said, twisting in his chair, “we’ve been doing okay. We had a bit of a backlog of things that needed to happen, and we’ve made a lot of progress in the past two days.” He hoped that would dissuade Erlich from bothering Richard.

Nope. Erlich pounded his fist on Richard’s door. “Richie! Get out here and lead your team.” He paused for a moment. “Richard, if you don’t open this door right now, I am going to break this fucking door down and throw you and all your possessions out onto the front lawn.” When Richard still didn’t open the door, Erlich yelled, “Motherfuck!” and stalked down the hall back to the work room. “OJ, you’ve seen him since he locked himself in there, right? Make him come out here. I have an announcement, and I want everyone to be here for it.” 

* * *

 

Richard lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He hugged a pillow tightly. Why did Erlich always have to threaten him with homelessness at the worst possible times? It’s not as if he didn’t already have enough to worry about. Pied Piper was a constant concern. He had three people working under him. Three people who had given up their own dreams to chase his. Plus Erlich. Erlich was as much a part of the team as the others. An obnoxious, arrogant, insensitive part of the team. Still, he meant well, and his threats were just an attempt to get Richard out of his pit of despair. 

He contemplated getting out of bed, maybe eating some of the sandwich Jared had brought him the prior evening. Certainly, lying in bed and crying himself to sleep over and over again was pointless. But…fuck. His life was basically over. For the rest of his life, he’d be a slave to these pills, which may eventually stop working. It’d be one doctor’s appointment after another, constant blood drawing, tons of needles. Fuck. Needles. Getting sick so much easier. His immune system wasn’t ever that strong anyway. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. And his love life was over. Completely over. Forever. No one would risk contracting a potentially lethal illness just to get laid.

Another knock at the door, this one much softer than Erlich’s police-esque pounding, brought Richard back to the present. Jared. It had to be Jared. Then, through the door he heard, “Richard, it’s Jared again. We need to talk, please.”

Fuck. It _was_ Jared.

He swallowed hard. “Yeah?” his voice shook and sounded so quiet to his own ears.

The door opened slowly, and then Jared was standing beside his bed again. This time, he brought a couple slices of toast. Richard rolled onto his side to face Jared. “I brought you toast. I put some jelly on them. I think one is grape and the other is strawberry? I wasn’t sure which one you liked better.” Jared offered the plate to Richard.

Richard shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” He didn’t feel like dealing whatever Jared wanted to talk about. He didn’t want to deal with food. He just wanted to be left alone to cry into his pillow some more.

Jared ducked beneath the bed to put the plate on the untouched tray he’d brought in the previous night. When he stood, he went through a bizarre series of arm-movements, first putting his hands in his pockets, then folding his arms across his chest, then letting his arms dangle at his side, then, finally, settling on hooking the fingers of both hands over the edge of Richard’s mattress, approximately lined up with Richard’s elbows.

“Richard…” Jared looked down at his hands and chewed at the inside of his mouth for a moment. Then, he made eye contact once again. “Richard…I know.” Oh, great. “I accidentally knocked over one of your prescriptions last night, and I saw the label, and I couldn’t help but look it up. I didn’t want to invade your privacy like that, but I just needed to know if it was at all related to your mental state over these past couple days. I haven’t told any of the guys, so you’re safe there.”

Well, that was a delightful punch to the gut. Richard squeezed his pillow again and shut his eyes. His jaw clenched.

“It doesn’t affect my opinion of you at all. Your HIV status has no real effect on who you are. I know that you are a good person, and you care, and you’re a leader. You’re _our_ leader. Me and Dinesh and Gilfoyle. We love you, and we are eagerly awaiting your return to work.” Jared paused for a moment, then continued in that obnoxiously chipper tone he always takes when discussing business, “Not to worry, the ship has been sailing very smoothly these past couple days. We’ve been able to take care of a few backlogged items, all work that had to happen eventually, so we haven’t lost much productivity these few days.” He paused again, and then, more softly, somberly, resumed talking. “Still, we miss you, and we need you. Please, dear leader – _great_ leader – get up. Get up and take your place at the helm. Lead us. If you need a little more time, I think I can keep running interference on Erlich, maybe get Gilfoyle or Dinesh to help. But we really need you. And you need to eat. Malnutrition weakens your immune system, which is the last thing you need. And Erlich apparently needs you for a house meeting tonight.”

Richard opened his eyes again at the end of Jared’s little speech. Jared looked so worried and sad. Richard hated knowing he was the reason for that. Okay, okay. He took a deep, deep breath. “Just give me…half an hour.”

Jared grinned at him. “Thanks, Richard. Remember, I’m _always_ here if you need me.” This time, before leaving, he put his hand over Richard’s right hand and gave it a quick squeeze. He walked toward the door. “Half an hour!” 

* * *

 

Erlich stood proudly at the head of the work table. Jared marveled at Erlich’s endless confidence. He looked like a king. All he needed was a crown and scepter, and he’d practically be handed a kingdom! It was truly awe-inspiring.

“Ah, Richard, glad you finally made it. Are you done being a lazy good-for-nothing?” Erlich stared Richard down as he walked slowly, feebly, to his place at the table. Jared shook his head at Erlich, trying to remind him to be kind to Richard. Erlich, of course, failed to notice. Richard just looked down at the tabletop. He still looked so defeated, spiritless, even less confident than usual. Jared wanted to get up from his seat and give him a hug.

“Anyway. As you miserable fucks know, you’ve been bringing in practically no money. As the owner and sole proprietor of this incubator, and as owner of ten percent of Pied Piper, I still feel some responsibility for how poorly-equipped you are to exist in the real world. I can’t just kick you out onto the street,” Erlich looked pointedly at Richard as he said this. “As a result, I’ve been forced to consider alternate forms of revenue. Namely, pornography.”

Jared tilted his head and frowned. Mainstream pornography was…problematic, to say the least. It routinely exploited women, and reduced any people of color to mere fetish objects. He was disappointed in Erlich for exploring it as a form of income and profiting off the suffering of others. Pied Piper was just one or two major deals away from really bringing in some cash, too. Couldn’t he just wait?

“What exactly are you doing with porn?” Gilfoyle asked.

“Yeah…as ugly as porn guys usually are, I can’t imagine anyone getting off to _you_ plowing some poor girl,” Dinesh chimed in. “My boner would be gone…pretty much instantly.”

Erlich huffed. “I’m writing, producing, and directing. You know, grown-up jobs. I will also be renting the pool area to my studio, since none of you ever use it.”

“So…does that mean you might introduce me to some actresses?” Dinesh asked hopefully. Jared was reminded for a moment of the modeling agency they’d almost been neighbors with. Dinesh was so excited, and he’d been so sad when they had to choose between servers or offices.

“Actresses? No. At this juncture, it seems gay porn will be more profitable. I could introduce you to some actors.”

And there it was again. Poor Dinesh. He looked like he’d been punched in the gut. 

Jared wasn’t sure about the working conditions for gay pornographic actors, but he imagined it likely wasn’t much better than those of straight porn actors.

The room was silent. Jared glanced around the room. Erlich looked like he was expecting a round of applause. Gilfoyle looked…pretty much exactly how he always looked. No emotion. Dinesh looked heartbroken and a little bit disgusted. Richard. Richard still looked dead inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm hitting my stride! This is so exciting. Probably no updates for the rest of the week, but this weekend will consist of much writing.


	4. Chapter 4

A soft knock at the door. Richard, laying on his back in bed, knew exactly who it was. Jared had come by every night that week, always with kind words and some comfort food. “Tea and sympathy,” he called it, though he never brought any tea. The first night had been soup and a grilled cheese, which Richard hadn’t eaten. The next night, toast and a peptalk. The night after that, more soup and some praise for leaving his room. It felt a little pathetic, being praised for simply getting out of bed. But it was Jared. If anyone else had said those things to him, it would have been condescending. Instead, Jared’s words were encouraging, and the following morning he’d felt strong enough again to leave his room and do some work.

“Come in,” Richard said.

The door opened, and Jared stepped into the room. He shut the door behind himself. “Macaroni and cheese?” He offered a bowl to Richard. It looked delicious. Gooey and cheesy. Richard sat up, turned to face Jared at the side of the bed, and accepted the offer. Jared smiled warmly at his friend. He waited until Richard took the first bite before sitting in the computer chair by the window.

Richard ate his food slowly, spearing a single noodle at a time on his fork, chewing, then stabbing his fork through another and repeating the process. Both men were silent for a while. Richard stared down at his food. Jared looked around the room. Finally, Jared said, “You did great today. You looked like your old self for a little bit.”

Richard flicked his eyes up to look at Jared for a second before returning to his food. He had no idea what to say to that. Thanks? He settled on a small nod. He hoped Jared would just keep talking. Keeping his emotions at bay all day long had taken a herculean effort, and he didn’t feel like speaking. Still, it was comforting to have Jared in his room, talking about whatever.

“Richard…” Jared waited for Richard to take his eyes off his food again before he continued speaking. “I don’t understand what you’re going through. I’ve never been on the receiving end of a difficult diagnosis.” Of course, he was finally going there. Jared had only brought it up once so far, just to tell Richard he knew. After that, he’d steered their conversations far, far away from Richard’s health. “I’ve been through some difficult times. It’s important that you try to reclaim your life after experiencing something like this. Get back into your usual routine, get back to doing whatever it is that makes you feel normal. I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, but I think it will help if you get back to doing the things you enjoy. You haven’t left the house all week. Maybe a change of scenery would help.”

Getting away from the house and all his Pied Piper responsibilities would be nice. But Pied Piper had been operating without him for too long already. Richard chewed the inside of his cheek, and, after some thought, said, “I can’t leave. I’ve already taken most of this week off. And,” he paused, letting his mouth hang open, looking around the room at nothing in particular, while he collected is thoughts further. “There’s no going back to normal after this. There’s no _reclaiming_ my life. I can’t tell the human immunodeficiency virus to vacate the premises. I’m going to have to take those pills every day for the rest of my life. No one is ever going to love me again. Erlich will probably kick me out if he ever finds out.”

“Actually,” Jared interjected, “as an HIV-positive individual, the ADA protects you against discrimination. You’re a protected class now. Plus, since Erlich’s getting into porn, he’s taking some sexual health training seminar. From what he’s said, it specifically covers HIV transmission, prevention, and treatment. He might have a more enlightened understanding of the subject.”

“Great. That’s great. Still, all this is happening, because I’m stupid. Because I made a stupid mistake. That’s all I do,” Richard the corners of his eyes start to sting. No. No, he did not need to cry in front of Jared. He was not a pretty crier, and Jared, sitting there all deer-in-headlights, did not need to see that. He cast his gaze up to the ceiling and continued talking. “I make stupid mistakes and then I think I escaped-” His breath came in gulps, and his vision was definitely starting to get blurry. He couldn’t tell he was shaking the bed, or if an earthquake or possibly Erlich stomping down the hall was. “I-I think I escaped the consequences, and then…”

And then the bed-shaking stopped and he felt the bowl of macaroni and cheese being taken from his hands, and then an arm was put around his shoulders. Jared pulled Richard into him. Richard resisted for a moment. He didn’t want to be touched or hugged. He just wanted to not cry. But Jared was there, hugging him, trying to comfort him or something, making it worse. He suddenly found himself wrapping his arms around Jared in an awkward two-armed side-hug, leaning into his shoulder. Oh…oh no. He felt big, fat tears…this was not going to be another quiet cry like he’d been having since the diagnosis, laying in bed and just letting the tears silently fall onto his pillow, maybe with some sniffling. This was going to be a big, loud, ugly cry with snot and sobbing. “I…get…cocky and think I won…and…” his speech was punctuated by shuddering breaths. He wasn’t even sure anything he said was intelligible to Jared. “And then it…it all comes back and bites me in the ass.”

With that, he truly gave in to his tears. He grabbed onto the loose fabric of Jared’s shirt. Jared pet his hair, occasionally saying comforting things like, “Shhhh, it’s okay,” or “It’s alright. Let it out,” or “You aren’t stupid. Everyone makes mistakes.” 

* * *

 

After what felt like an hour, but was probably more like ten minutes, Richard’s sobbing decreased in frequency and intensity and eventually stopped altogether. He still clung to Jared, taking deep, slow breaths. Jared dropped the hand that had been rubbing Richard’s head to his lap. A few seconds later, Richard sat up straight and wiped the tears and snot from his face.

“Thanks,” he said, with a small smile. “And, sorry.” He gestured to the tear stains on Jared’s shoulder.

Jared looked down at his shirt. He hadn’t even felt the wet spot as it formed, but now that it was exposed to air, the fabric did feel a little cold. “It’s fine. Are you okay?” He knew the real answer wouldn’t be _yes_ , but he asked anyway.

“I…yeah. Yeah. I feel better.” Richard rubbed at his eyes again. “I haven’t had a good cry like that in a long time.”

“Cathartic, isn’t it?” Jared was relieved that his friend felt better. A good hard cry always helped when he was in a funk, though he acknowledged Richard's feelings went well beyond "funk" territory.

Richard sighed. In that moment, he almost seemed content. “Yeah,” he nodded and smiled a little wider. “I might actually be okay. I mean, I have a headache now, but…I think I can survive this. Thanks, Jared.”

Jared patted him on the back. “You’ll get through this. I’ll always be here for you, if you need another cry, or…oh, aspirin? Do you want some some aspirin?” He wobbled to the edge of the bed and climbed down the ladder to find Richard some painkillers. 

He slipped down the hall. He stepped carefully over the creaky floorboard in front of the bathroom door. It was late, and he didn’t want to wake any of the guys. He dug through the medicine cabinet. There had to be some kind of pain reliever in there.

Behind him, someone cleared their throat. Jared froze with his hand on an ibuprofen bottle. “OJ, we need to talk.”


End file.
